"Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. Valuable, but small. And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I’ve read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around?
I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So, goodnight, dear void."

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Poem

Dear one, how many years is it - I forget -Since this luminous evening when you joined usIn the celebration of whatever it was that we were celebrating - I forget -It is a mark of a successful celebrationThat one should have little recollection of the cause;As long as the happiness itself remains a memory.Our tiny planet, viewed from afar, is a place of swirling cloudsAnd dimmish blue; Scotland, though lodged large in all our heartsIs invisible at that distance, not much perhaps,But to us it is our all, our place, the opposite of nowhere;Nowhere can be seen by looking upAnd realising, with shock, that we really are very small;You would say, yes, we are, but never overcompensate,Be content with small places, the local, the short storyRather than the saga; take pleasure in private jokes,In expressions that cannot be translated,In references that can be understood by only two or three,But which speak with such eloquence for small placesAnd the fellowship of those whom we know so wellAnd whose sayings and moods are as familiarAs the weather; these mean everything,They mean the world, they mean the world.

About Me

"The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by possessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly grace of faith makes up the highest perfection." JOHN MILTON, Of Education (1644)